Recent Posts

More than once I have stood at the very edge of a precipice
before a grand vista, and each time has given me an unforgettable
experience. The Grand Canyon, Yosemite’s Half Dome and the top of
the Eiffel Tower can all thrill me like nothing else. Or
they can terrify me, setting my knees aquiver, causing me keep
back from the edge and leaving the most breathtaking moment out
of reach. Those venues have a visceral power to inspire and
frighten, and I can’t predict in advance which power will
dominate on a given day.

I used to think that such double-edged power was limited to
dramatic physical contexts like cliffs and summits, but at a conference in Toronto in November 2010,
it happened to me in business. This was the picture of the
precipice:

Yeah, big crowd. Huge, even.

The backstage folks also got all weird last minute about all my
jewelry -- that it was going to interfere with the microphones.
So my earrings, necklace, etc all went off. Taking off a woman's
jewelry is like taking off Wonder Woman's magical bracelets. Not something to
be done, in my opinion.

I felt a little bare. And then, suddenly self-conscious. In an
instant, I realized that I was not entirely “on my game.” A
little voice in my head added "what if I use a bad word here
(which, as you know, I am apt to do); 2000 people will remember it".
I’m sure I had some thought about this being Canadians and
politeness mattering. Oy. “Be careful,” the little voice said.
You know what happened next, right? The figurative Step Back.

And that, as it turns out, was exactly the opposite of what was
needed.

Our natural selves – our identities without titles, our
credentials without posturing, our perspectives built on
experience and learning – are unique. That scares many of us
because it means we don’t necessarily fit in, and “not fitting
in” is perilously close to “not belonging.” But it our uniqueness
is we need to bring forward. Not what someone else could expect,
but the best and authentic part of ourselves. We recognize
the need for companies and products to be differentiated, but
find it unsettling to think of exposing our natural and positive
differentiators.

I got caught in that little twist backstage in Toronto. I
subconsciously chose “safety” in the few seconds before walking
on. When you’re in a big room, with a big crowd, you need to be
incrementally bigger than when you’re in a small venue. But
the voice, posture and animation that I showed up with was,
instead, ever-so-slightly muted. I did fine, but not amazing.
Martin Perelmuter of the wonderful Speaker’s Spotlight
bureau told me later that while I am normally animated and
vivacious in person, he has sometimes seen me dialed down when on
stage. As in, charisma turned down. It’s a speaker’s version of
being “appropriate” or “nice”. It’s also “low maintenance.” The
audience may decide that now is a good time to check email and
they might even tweet me up (which they did at The Art of
Management) but they aren't engaged by both heart and
mind.

I don't want to turn down my volume or voice in any way because
I'm afraid of being seen as I am. And, I won't do it
anymore. I hope you won’t either in whatever work you do.
The key is to remember that by turning down our volume, our
aliveness, our animation, we'll be LESS of who we actually are.
And that's not what we're here in life to do. It doesn’t
serve us, it doesn’t serve our audience or coworkers, it doesn’t
serve our mission, and it doesn’t serve the economy. Perhaps,
most importantly, it doesn’t bring us joy.

You can see me at this more recent TEDx
talk done in late March on innovation where I brought this
new intention with me as I walked to the precipice.